The Other
by Karen Kannabilly
Summary: (Pitch Black x Demon!Reader) You can sense The Other, but will you become acquainted? Lemon, sort of a drabble.


A/N: I originally wanted to write something senselessly sexual with this, and try and kick my recent "I WILL DO NOTHING" laziness over writing, but this turned out much longer than I'd anticipated because writing in this style- sort of more self oriented than what my usual is, I guess- was fun. This is a lemon drabble-esque nonsense that was amusing to write, and I hope it is amusing to read as well.

I also planned to write more with specific types of demons (the Alp for a less raunchy writing and the Succubus originally for this, but I suppose that could still apply) but was not sure if it'd be enjoyed so I'll put it off for a while, since I'm still trying to manage the chapters of the Lullaby fic (yes, I am still doing that, I want to complete the fourth chapter before uploading the third, though.) and two other Pitch\Reader fics (I'm addicted to writing these!) that I may only be uploading to my deviantArt rather than here.

I DON'T OWN PITCH ;A;

_ooooooooooooooooooo- story time- ooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

A delighted hiss shuddered through your vocal chords; you could feel the vibration of it more than actually hearing the emitted noise- and the fact that you even bothered paying attention to such a small detail, however distantly or beaten around the bush that reflection was, meant that you were particularly giddy. The smell of whoever (or _what_ever) was near struck your nostrils in a specific rhythm, elicited a precise ordeal within your head as it carried something new: communication- or perhaps even an ugly confrontation- with another being that occupied the very different layer of universe and existence you yourself resided in. Whether meeting this other creature would lead to friendly or less than pretty interaction did not matter. What was significant was the fact that this thing was _here_ and smelled of neither man nor demon- something unique. Other.

You slinked through the dark room, unseen but obviously sensed on some level by the human occupant who stared wide eyed and questioningly at the space you paused in. Energy high and still mounting, you tapped a claw-tipped digit against the wooden chest- presumably filled with toys- at the end of his bed, smirking when the sound of saliva being roughly swallowed was clear to you.

The men you were fond of preying upon were often fathers abandoned with the children bore by women too young to bother staying with the poor fellows and results of a lascivious liaison, and considering this it was far from unusual that you come across youths like this. You weren't all that partial to messing with them- however, this case was different.

The thing that smelled of not-man and not-demon, his- yes, _his_, this creature had _a gender _that was now apparent!- scent tensed from somewhere close. He didn't like you playing in his territory, or maybe he had some special attachment to this child in particular- the latter was unlikely, you suddenly surmised. The smell that radiated outward was not one of protective nature, but of spite.

You blinked at a realization.

This was his prey.

The child hiccupped, maybe trying to suppress a sob. You clutched the bed sheets, pulling your lithe form up and crawled carefully to him, much to his dismay- all the while, the scent of The Other kept tensing, straining to remain hidden but mixing far too loudly with more emotions. You pressed your face closer to the young boy, watched with a satisfied grin as he shivered, no doubt feeling your coldness. Again you pressed, growling softly near his small ear.

The boy didn't like this. Neither did The Other.

"You have no business here."

Your neck swiveled to look at the closet your back had faced, and there he stood before it- exposed.

Skin a pallid combination of grey and blue, attire an odd mixture of ebony fabric and... shadows?

He also wore an angry expression.

"What's _your _business here, then?" You tilted your head, no uninterested in the youth but taking slight note of the fearful whimpers that jerked from him.

The Other looked pretty offended. "What is _my_ business? Are you _insane_?"

He extended a hand, not offered to be taken but in adamant gesture, pointed to himself with his other extremity. "I am _the boogeyman_ and this is-"

"The boogeyman?" You interrupted with an inquiring tone, curl shaping your lips into a small smile. "I'd heard you were destroyed."

And now he really looked ticked. "Obviously not. And you, _whatever you are_, you can leave now." He pointed at the door with a gaunt finger, muscles under his face hard and his eyes icy. You only continued to smile, responding with a purr.

"You aren't curious?"

The Other sneered, appearing somewhat befuddled beneath it. "Curious? About what? Some rude thing messing around where she ought not?"

You shook your head, sliding from atop the bed and inching near him like an intent cat with no sense of caution; he flinched slightly, as if about to recoil and return to his hiding place, and you jolted to a stop. "I'm not the rude one here. I think you'd wonder something about me- something, at the least."

He scoffed, guffawed even, and crossed his lanky arms. "Don't flatter yourself."

You were getting a little disappointed.

The Other was stubborn.

He smelled of a hunger for his prey, but also of a longing somewhere inside everything else, but didn't say so.

_Dammit, what was it?_

"Well, _I'm_ curious of _you_," You admitted.

His brow furrowed and a glint of that confusion crossed him again before he buried it deeply- covered all once more, sending the things that made your head ache to know below and away from your sense. "Curiosity killed the cat. Stupid quality to have."

You began your movement again, slipping closer. The Other didn't budge this time, only stared at you with dark-rimmed golden irises that were struggling just a bit to contain what had only just been shoved beneath.

"The cat has nine lives, so why should she worry?" You asked simply, trying to appear more... ingenuous? Maybe he would let you in more if you seemed less of _another_, more kin.

He laughed.

He tried to catch it- you could feel that he didn't want you to know you'd amused him, but it slipped. And it had sounded _good_ against your senses, appealing.

And before he could catch _you_, your fingers reached upward to brush his collarbone. A start ran through him, but he didn't flee as you'd worried- rather his own digits wrapped reflexively around your hand. He grit his teeth in annoyance.

"And now you're _touching_ me."

"I can't?" You wiggled your fingers in their limited space against his entrapping palm before an unpleasant sound ruffled through you.

The child had begun to cry, and The Other released your hand, melting to the floor in a flurry of inky shadows, slithering beneath the bed like retreating snakes.

"What's wrong? Hey, hey," The man that would have been your priority at the beginning of tonight shuffled quickly into the room, and the beginning of consolation and bonding was ignored as you made swift work of moving under them in pursuit of The Other. Locating him was not at all difficult; the lingering of _you_ and confusion that flowed more freely trailed to a place that was abstract but completely doused with dark hues.

The Other's slender jaw hung loosely as he gaped at you for a brief moment.

"...Lunatic," The skin by his sharp nose knotted up, "Get out! Go... be _strange _elsewhere!"

"What's your name, Other?" You persisted, not bothered and determined to display it.

He shook his head, and your shoulders as he placed his hands upon the curves of the, "For the love of-"

"Pitch?" You cooed, craning your neck up to press your nose to his. "You don't have to _tell _me... just show me..."

Pitch offered an expression of exasperation, but didn't move his face away from yours. "What in _all hell_ do you want?"

"To know," Your lips were deliriously close, and your excitement surged, but you continued to speak coyly, "I want to know about you. Show me..."

Silence followed, but his eyes and emotions were loud. Your tongue flicked out to skim his top lips, and the resulting whirl of feelings that this action elicited from him pushed you to edge. You pressed your hips against his and...

"Gk..!" A grunt escaped you as your back hit a solid wall, his fingertips now digging into your shoulders and stinging like ice against unaccustomed skin. Radiating an open want.

"You want me to show you what?" Pitch's teeth grit together again, but he was smirking this time. You mewed submissively, playing that innocent role, enjoying his stirred state. His fingers moved to press against your scanty clothing, moving it in search of bare flesh. Their mark was not missed, and he roughly ran the cold tips over your heated clit. You bucked your hips against the playing digits, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and hooking a claw into the fabric that covered it.

"More, Pitch," You began to urge, but felt a twitch of silliness in your begging, and instead busied your mouth with sucking at the skin by his jawline. He shuddered, pleased but emotion inside him changing and shifting frantically.

"You must be _mad_," He breathed, but grasped your hips and brought your lower body up to be supported by his own; covered flesh pressed into contrarily nude, and you moaned at the feel of his still-hidden but all too evident anatomy. He snickered at your noise, driving himself against you more.

"Why are you only playing?" You asked, nipping his bottom lip with your sharp little teeth before lapping your tongue over the small pain you felt being inflicted there by this. "Are you _afraid?"_

He hunted for fear, this truth about him was exposed, and your words hit the right button. His neck pushed his face against yours, none too gently, and his linguistic muscle parted your lips without bothering for permission. You clawed at the hem of his pants, tugging them down successfully, even in your strained position. His member, unlike his fingertips and lips, was _warm_, perhaps even more heated than your own sex.

He groaned, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to press your nakedness against his even more intently, enjoying the pulses of skin and senses you felt. As if both of you now had a _heartbeat_.

Pitch abruptly shifted his hips back, positioning himself with fluid swiftness and slammed them forward again. The friction of him against your insides, without warning and profoundly unpredicted, caused you to yelp. You adjusted, however, no longer content with your innocent role, and urged him to move faster with encouraging whispers next to his ear.

He liked hearing his name, he liked the way it dripped with lust in your voice in particular- you felt it spark in his chest, the tomb where something much kinder used to reside.

"Pitch," You panted, tightening your sex around his and more than satisfied by the shaking groans this produced in him. "I know... you exist. I know you are powerful. I know you are important."

Your words were so damn _driving_ and _perfect, _and he didn't bother to suppress the barrage of emotion and thought that they were bringing to a boil. You swallowed, intent to sense more from him, though the muscles in your legs had begun to ache and the heat of him pumping inside you was near the point of what felt like an explosion, "I.. I would let you own me, I would be yours, to do with as you please... I am..."

His groans were reaching new octaves of sound, and he pushed his member into you deeply, looking for a spot to ignite the catastrophic bomb. You squeaked, "...I am yours.. _Pit..!"_

Fireworks.

It was _just_ like fireworks sent off from the inside.

You hooked your chin over his shoulder, lazily letting your legs slip from around him, and he was content to slide to the ground, cradling your spent body in his lap- whether this was out of affection or simple exhaustion, you couldn't tell; your senses felt numb and tired. But you purred again, nuzzling against Pitch's neck, and he did not protest. Just sighed, content.

You tilted your head back slightly, retina focusing on his face. Calm.

It was a pleasant expression, one you could get used to.

Maybe he and all his emotions and scents would become even more familiar to you. Maybe he'd become closer, not The Other in an unacquainted sense of it, but your favorite other. Your other. Significant othe-

"What's on your daft mind now?" He quirked his mouth to the side, narrowing his eye at you, and you giggled; you had not meant to stare.

"After that," You questioned, sense rebuilding and eager to test more, "how many lives would you say the cat has left?"


End file.
